by Jen Luerssen
My windows are down so I hear Kit’s laughter and the squeal of a child. Through the fence I can see her pick up a little kid and spin them around. I’m curious now so I get out of my car, not caring about consequences. When I get to the fence, I can see more clearly that Kit is cradling a little girl younger than Mae. She has sandy hair and a toothy smile. She looks familiar but I can’t place it. My heart feels like it stops when I recognize her. She is almost the spitting image of a photo my mom has in our living room of me when I was a toddler.
Maybe all toddlers look alike? I think but somewhere in my brain, I know that is not true. My feet walk me to the gate to get a better look since where I’m standing there are hedges blocking me. I guess I get too close to the gate because suddenly there’s a loud beeping sound and Kit spins around and sees me standing there.
She does something when she reaches the gate to silence the alarm and then pushes a button to open the gate. The little girl in her arms is babbling something that sounds a lot like ‘Mamameow.’
Kit searches my face for whatever reaction I’m having to this scene before me. “Hi,” she says. “You’re here.”
“Yeah, I was curious so I decided to follow you. I’m sure you want me to be embarrassed by that and I probably should be.” I step closer and the little girl hides her face in Kit’s chest.
“You said you trusted me,” she whispers.
“I do,” I say. “Just curious about you and everything about you.” I direct my attention to the little girl in her arms. “Hi.”
“It’s okay, Bea, he’s a friend,” Kit says softly. The little girl’s hand shoots out behind her in my direction. Kit smiles. “She’s greeting you.”
“Hello,” I say, my voice breaking. I’m frozen in place watching them together. “Is she yours?” I ask.
Kit smiles. “Come, Sebastian,” she says turning to grab my hand while keeping Bea in her arms and pulls me towards the front door. There on the small porch are two very handsome men checking me out. Not in a sexual way, but in a ‘you might not be not good enough for our daughter’ way.
I walk up the steps, following Kit. She puts the girl down and she runs to the shorter of the two men. When I say shorter, I don’t mean either of them is short. They both stand well over six feet and are blonde with blue eyes. They make a striking couple--like a pair of Vikings.
“Sebastian, these are my parents, Sig and Peyton Becker,” Kit says gesturing to the men.
The taller one steps to me and puts his hand out. “I’m Sig,” he says with a faint German accent. I take his hand and he squeezes it tightly shaking it sharply twice.
“Nice to meet you, Kit has told me a lot about you both.” He drops my hand and the other giant now holding Bea over his shoulder steps to me and gives me a warm smile.
“Peyton, the better looking and kinder one,” he says with a bit of a drawl. He holds his hand out to me like he is a southern belle. I take it and he squeezes me with a significantly less amount of pressure. “I see you’ve met Ms. Beatrice here.” The little girl giggles as he tickles her legs.
“Yet down, PopPop,” she says.
“Okay, BB,” he says and lets her down.
Her eyes are wide and a pretty hazel as she stares up at me. Peyton holds her hand and kneels next to her. “This is Sebastian, he’s Meow’s friend.”
She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me. “You yike, Mameow?”
“I do,” I say quickly. “It’s nice to meet you, Beatrice.”
“Say hi to Se-bas-tian,” Peyton sounds my name out.
She steps away from Peyton and wriggles her hand from his and holds it out to me. “Hi, ‘A-bat-in.’”
I take her hand and she gives it a vigorous shake. I smile at her, she’s as charming as Kit, whom I have a strong feeling is her mother. My mind is reeling at this thought because somewhere deep inside I know that this beautiful little girl’s father is me.
Salty Trouble
Kit
Two years ago...
Yep, that’s me, the woman who has a nameless random hookup in Vegas and gets pregnant. I’m staring at the fifth test I’ve done today. My roommate had an oldish one and let me use it, and when it came up positive, I dragged myself to get a newer one.
I knew that it wouldn’t make a difference and it didn’t. Still positive, still knocked up. You’d think that with all the adventure I’ve had, the experiences and mistakes, that I’d know better. Know better than to trust condoms I bought at a hotel gift shop. Know better than to not at least go through his wallet and write his full name down, just in case.
None of that happened, instead, I’m sitting in my tiny bathroom in my tiny apartment that I share with another woman who is also a junior at UC Davis. Yep, I’m in college still and now I’m fucking pregnant with some stranger’s baby. How is this my life?
My phone rings on the ground next to me and I glance at it seeing the goofy picture of my dad, Peyton. We’ve always been connected in a weird way. Sig calls us Jedis because it’s like we share a consciousness sometimes. Once when they were on a trip I woke in the middle of the night and told my Nana I had a bad dream about a boat. The next day they called to let us know they’d be home early because Peyton was hurt in a boat accident.
“Daddy, please tell me you’re just calling to say hi,” I say.
“Bunnytoots, you know better. Tell me what’s up?” It’s uncanny.
“It’s not a phone conversation. I’m coming home tonight,” I say.
It’s a Thursday but there’s no way I can get through my marketing class tomorrow without melting down. I know, if I step back and look at my situation from someone else’s perspective, it really isn’t so bad. I have parents who will support me, money is not an issue and I’m young and healthy. These are all good things and I know I’m lucky. I feel so conflicted about what to do. I know I’m not too far along because I’ve only been with one person in the last year and that was just seven weeks ago. Getting an abortion is an option but not a decision I’d make lightly. If I have this child, they will be fatherless, and I know it’s selfish but I’ll have to postpone school and all the experience, contacts, and momentum I have will mean less if I have to take years off in between. Ugh, I sound like a spoiled brat.
“Tonight is good, Kit, Papa and I will be here,” he says in his sweet voice. “I’ll make your macaroni for you.”
“Okay, love you,” I say and hang up before I start to cry.
Because he’s psychic he sends me a text directly.
Daddy: Don’t cry, my Bunny. I love you too.
Me: Thanks, daddy. XO
Daddy: Always.
Me: Don’t Snape me.
Daddy: I will, don’t sass me.
I smile at my phone and even though he doesn’t know what’s happening yet he still cheers me up. All three of us adore Harry Potter and overuse quotes from the books in all aspects of our lives. Wiping the tears away, I stand up, wash my hands and face, then leave the bathroom to face the rest of my life.
***
I’m almost home when my phone rings, it’s my dad, Sig.
“Hi, Papa, I’m almost there,” I say.
“Daddy told me you were coming only five minutes ago, Hasenfürzchen. Where are you?”
“I just turned onto 12, I’ll be there in minutes,” I say rolling my eyes.
“Don’t sass me, I know you and Daddy have your Jedi tricks but you can’t forget me.”
“Papa, how could we? You’re larger than life. Daddy knows nothing except I’m coming home--in like five minutes! We will talk when I get there. I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” he says and I hang up.
A few minutes later I pull into the driveway, the gate opening when I push the remote attached to my car’s visor. The dads hate having a gate but it keeps our peacocks in and people out. They aren’t majorly famous but they do have their share of overeager admirers.
Both of them are sitting on the porch when I climb
out of my car. Sig has his usual glass of lager and Peyton has what is most likely sweet tea in his giant UC Davis tumbler and they are both wearing jeans and UC Davis shirts. Like I said, they are supportive.
“Wow, Papa, is this from your new line?” I ask teasing him.
“Bah, you sass me already, Hasenfürzchen?” He smiles and throws his arms around me in a bear hug.
“I learned my sass from the sassiest,” I say, in our usual warm greeting. “Let daddy have a turn.”
He reluctantly lets me go and hands me off to Peyton who squeezes me even harder. “Bunny, we missed you.”
He lets me go and I try to catch my breath. “I know, but it’s only been a few weeks.”
“Come, let’s get you food and then we will talk,” Peyton says grabbing my hand, pulling me inside.
Our house is surprisingly roomy on the inside. From the outside, it looks like a modest Spanish style ranch, but the layout stretches out behind making it much larger. The main room is all open concept with a sunken living room area, a long dining table area that opens into a good-sized kitchen.
There’s a large charcuterie board stuffed with all kinds of cold cuts, cheese, olives, pickles, crackers, and nuts sitting at the end of the table and we all sit around it. Sig is not a great cook but he loves a good cheese plate and recently has become obsessed with charcuterie boards. The more elaborate the design the better.
We sit and Peyton places a glass of water in front of me, which is strange because since I’ve been 18, he’s always served my favorite wine. It’s like he knows I can’t have the wine.
“Papa, this looks so beautiful,” I point to the board.
He shakes his head. “Thanks, Hasenfürzchen. Now tell us.”
Peyton takes my hand that is frantically fidgeting the corner of the pretty orange placemat. I take a deep breath and go for it.
“I’m pregnant,” I say quickly. “I had a one-night stand in Vegas, which I blame you for that dress, Papa. We used condoms but they obviously didn’t work. The worst part is I didn’t get his real name. I know zero about him. I haven’t been to a doctor yet, I don’t know what to do, and I’m terrified.”
Peyton lets my hand go but gets up and comes to hug me. I watch Sig while I’m getting hugged. He looks serious and a little disappointed. I knew he was going to be more difficult about it.
“Bunny, that’s big news,” Peyton says diplomatically. “I’m glad you told us. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Scared, kind of stupid, weirdly happy, and then I lapse in to terrified again.” I take a sip of my water and then take another deep breath. “Then, I feel selfish because this is inconvenient, and takes my life off the rails.”
“These seem like normal thoughts one would have when they are faced with an unexpected pregnancy,” Sig says and his hand joins Peyton’s over mine. “You have us, though, and we can help with whatever you decide.”
They both lean in and kiss my cheeks and I feel an overwhelming sense of relief.
“Right now, let’s get you some mac and cheese and then some Birds,” Peyton says, patting my cheek. He gets up and serves us all heaping bowls of his famous mac and cheese.
After we stuff ourselves, we retire to the couches to watch our favorite Hitchcock movie, The Birds, starring Tippy Hedren as Melanie who makes an unfortunate trip to Bodega Bay when the birds turn on everyone. The dads are way back Hitchcock fans and this is our family favorite. I must fall asleep during the movie because I find myself in Sig’s arms crossing the threshold of my bedroom.
“Thanks, Papa,” I whisper.
“Sleep, Hasenfürzchen, we will talk in the morning,” he says while tucking me in.
***
The next morning, I shuffle into the kitchen, half awake, ready for some delicious coffee. The dads are total coffee snobs and have an espresso maker built into the wall. All you do is put the water and beans in and it does all the rest. Even foams your milk for you.
“Morning, Bunny,” Peyton says, handing me a beautiful cup of coffee with a pretty dragon design on top. “Come sit in the back with us. It’s warm out already.”
I follow him outside and it is indeed already warm. September in Northern California can be scorching. Sig is curled up at the end of one of the outdoor sectional sofas. I sit in the corner, my usual spot, and Peyton takes the other end.
I take a sip of my coffee and it’s creamy and delicious. “I made it decaf, hope that’s okay.” Peyton points to my cup.
“Sure, but next time just don’t tell me that so I can feel the caffeine placebo effect.” I take another sip then place my cup on the table in front of us. “So, I’m getting the feeling you two stayed up talking about me and my situation.”
Sig straightens. “We did, and please just hear us out.”
“Of course,” I say. “Your advice about everything means the world to me. This is certainly no different.”
Peyton goes first. “Keep in mind that we love you more than anything and will always do whatever we can to make sure you have a happy, safe, fulfilling life. When you’re making your decision about this baby, we want you to consider an additional option.”
He pauses and I look back and forth between them. “If it’s adoption, then I can’t do that. If I decide to have the baby it will stay with our family.”
“That’s what we want. We want you to consider us. Daddy and I would like to help you raise the baby. We’ll take the bulk of the responsibility while you complete your studies and take on the jobs that will require a lot of your time. You’d still be the mom, but we’d be like super-sized grandparents.” Sig is a pretty serious guy and for him to make this offer is a huge deal. I know Peyton would raise my kid singlehandedly if I asked him but for them both to offer this is not surprising, but unbelievably selfless.
“Papa and I have been talking for a few months now about maybe adopting a baby from overseas but the cost and scrutiny because we are two men would be intense. Doable, of course, because we get what we want, but still a challenge. We have a lot of love to give and we feel like we’ve done a pretty good job with you, except for the unplanned pregnancy, but hey, at least you’re no longer a teenager.” I laugh at him because he wouldn’t joke with me if he was genuinely disappointed.
“Really? You’d want to take on an infant at your advanced age?” I tease. Sig is in his 50s but Peyton is in his early 40s.
“You said you’d hear us out,” Sig says and I nod pretending to zip my lips shut.
“We want to be the baby’s parents until you are ready to take over full time. Finish school, travel, work to earn your spot, obviously still be around as much as possible and be the mom, but let us do the heavy lifting until you’re settled. Then we can hand them over and spoil them even more as grandparents.” Peyton is looking me in the eye and I can tell they really mean it.
“You’d be okay with raising a kid for a few years and then giving them up?” I ask.
“Yes, and the beauty is we wouldn’t give them up because they are our grandchild. We both know you’ll never move far away from us, you’re too attached. Plus, even if you did, we’d follow you, Runaway Bunny.”
I smile, remembering the book I was obsessed with as a little kid. Both dads have threatened to follow me on several occasions to wherever I went to college or ended up living my life. They’re right though, I love them too much and am way too attached to ever leave them for long.
“What do you say, Kit?” Peyton asks. “We are serious about this. Papa and I were up until late and we both want this, are excited about it, but will only do it if you are 100% on board. If you feel like it’s too much then we can make an appointment if that’s your choice.”
“You two are my choice,” I say. “I don’t know what to say, you’ve given me more than most children ever get in their lives, and I’m not talking about material stuff. The love, care, and guidance you’ve shown me as parents are the greatest gifts. How could I deny my future child that? If they have us, then they’
ll be the luckiest kid in the world.”
Salty Confession
Sebastian
When I was a kid my mom would say to me all the time, “When you have children of your own, you’ll understand.” Or “Just wait until you are a parent.” I can’t say that any of these were attached to me being well behaved but sometimes she was letting me know the intense love she has for me.
When Kit and her dad, Peyton, tells me about their arrangement, Kit going through with the pregnancy with the promise that she’d have the support of her dads as full partners in parenting, I feel nothing. I’m in shock.
“Sebastian, what’s happening in your head? Do you need time? More information? Pictures?” Kit is sitting next to me, in the corner of a sectional couch in their house. There’s an untouched beer in front of me and I pick it up and take a long swig.
“I’m processing. So, after our night together you got pregnant, and then nine months later handed our baby to your parents to raise?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Kit says and her posture is stiff. “My due date was in April but she came a little early, in March. She’ll be two March 23rd. It wasn’t a traditional adoption. When I had Bea, I took three months off to be with her and nurse. Then in the summer, I made up some classes so I was still able to graduate on time. I left her with them but was home every Thursday night to Monday morning. Sure, they’ve spent the most time with her, but she knows I’m her mom, and they are Papas, or she calls them ‘Pop Pop.’”
I nod. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound judgmental I just wanted to understand. Why didn’t you tell me when you met me?” I ask.
“Well, I didn’t know you and I was totally spooked. Our arrangement has worked and I guess I wanted to make sure you would be worthy. Ugh, it sounds shitty, but I was scared. If it makes a difference, I was going to tell you this Friday when you came to dinner. That’s why I came home today. I wanted to warn the dads.”